journal and writing

Chasing Butterflies by Rebecca Tillett

Before this girl was born, my husband and I would talk at length about how strange it would be to finally meet her, wondered what she’d look like, who she’d be. When she was a baby we’d marvel at how tiny she was, yet how big her personality, and we’d talk about how strange it would be to imagine her as a child, walking around, talking even. It all seemed so distant & strange and impossible to really comprehend.

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Hermanas Hermosas by Rebecca Tillett

How come the cousin relationship doesn’t get much attention? It’s pretty great and unique actually. You’re friends in that you don’t share parents but family in that you share grandparents. I mean, it’s basically best of both worlds, right?

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OK Winter Wonderland by Rebecca Tillett

Last weekend the Tulsa, OK area got an unusual amount of snow. My family and I just moved from Denver to a 7 acre property about 30 minutes south of Tulsa. This particular piece of land happens to have a small lake (or a big pond) on the property and the sudden and ample snowfall completely transformed this thing into a picturesque scene out of a storybook or painting.

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#terriblewritingclub #1 by Rebecca Tillett

My ex-husband recently pointed out to me that my mom and I are not very close. Like, very matter-of-factly. My reflex was to immediately disagree, and I did. It sounded unfamiliar to me and oddly uncomfortable, that declaration he’d made.

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Unexpected Transition by Rebecca Tillett

For as long as I can remember, to my very earliest memories and forever since, so often my first thought each morning after being jarred out of sleep by an unforgiving alarm was “Dear god, I’d rather be dead then ever have to get out of this bed again.” And ashamedly, it was not meant to be a humorous desire or a silly exaggeration. Sleep has always been my favorite part of every day, my reprieve.

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The Sketchbook Project by Rebecca Tillett

For the last couple months I’ve slowly been working on a sketchbook for the @thesketchbookproject. I have to send it back by February 1st and I’m finally nearly done with it. I’ll be getting it back just in time. I only get a few hours each week to spend on it but because of that, the finishing of it feels so much sweeter. It’s mixed media; a combination of inkjet image transfers, watercolor, pen, pencil, marker and a few pieces of my heart and soul.

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Free Churro by Rebecca Tillett

Two nights ago I cried pretty unexpectedly at the end of the Bojack Horseman episode, Free Churro. Have you seen it? The entire thing was Bojack giving a eulogy for his recently deceased mother, with whom he had a very strained & complex relationship. It was sad & powerful & raw & brutal & articulated so many feelings I have toward my father (& really, my mother too). Feelings of dismissal from both, but in dramatically different ways.

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The Carpenters by Rebecca Tillett

But they’re beautiful aren’t they? Weddings. Despite my own shying away from them, I am still a romantic, a feeler, a believer in things like fate and destiny and meant-to-bes. And I absolutely understand the want or need for a wedding, for a celebration with those you love and care about. That one dreamy day that signals the beginning of the next chapter. There’s a lot of magic and symbolism in weddings that I can appreciate.

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Jón Þór "Jónsi" Birgisson by Rebecca Tillett

Sigur Rós has been one of my all-time favorites since 2002, since hearing their song, Njósnavélin play over that last beautiful scene of Vanilla Sky when David had just learned he’d been dreaming for many years and choosing to finally wake up, jumps off the building in his dream. All happening against that fantastically beautiful montage of old photos and home movie footage, those snapshots and memories from our collective past gone forever now that for me, elicits such lovely nostalgic sadness.

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You Are a Motherf*%$ing Force by Rebecca Tillett

As of today, it’s been one whole entire huge tiny long quick gigantic short surreal transformative passionate trying wonderful exhausting year since I first got to look into your big eyes, baby
I am still gobsmacked by the strange magic of it all. Strange, shiny, messy, beautiful, incomprehensible magic.

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There is Only Light by Rebecca Tillett

I am much more protective of my feelings on motherhood than anything else in life. I am still working on unraveling just why exactly. I suspect because they are not always overwhelmingly exuberant, which I feel mothers rarely see mirrored or represented outside the darkest recesses of our minds. We are inundated with nothing but the happy wonderfulness so there is a built-in shame in feeling anything but, perhaps.

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